


Living

by bericdondarrion



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bericdondarrion/pseuds/bericdondarrion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well he had been unholy in the past, it was no surprise that he was having some depraved thoughts about their young commander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living

When Lord Eddard called his name out Thoros smiled to himself, he gave the required steps in front of the court and then allowed his worries to start playing inside his head like poison to bravery. He kept his eyes focused on the front, suddenly that ugly throne had become so very interesting for no reason whatsoever and the speech that the Hand of the King delivered afterwards was lost amid his thoughts and he could not hear it properly nor he cared to do so.

Bring justice to the Riverlands and capture the false knight Gregor Clegane. His smile didn't melt away but it felt sour, embittered as it faced the reality of the task. Thoros enjoyed wielding his sword almost as much as he enjoyed drinking and eating and spending his days in the King's table but this wasn't the Greyjoy Rebellion where he could show off and prove his skills and he wasn't as young as he used to be.

This was Tywin Lannister. Attacking Gregor Clegane, who was clearly working under the lion's orders was attacking the Great Lord and the Hand's task, as honourable as it was, sounded uncannily like a contract to commit suicide and Thoros wasn't ready to face death.

He looked over his shoulder, to the boy who would be leading the party, the same one he knocked off his horse a couple of days ago in the melee and only a couple of years older than the Knight of the Flowers and what was Lord Eddard thinking? Perfect posture, long golden red hair and that brightness in his blue eyes that portrayed the excitement of summer itself wanting to prove its honour and its worth and its foolishness. Not the match that the Mountain that Rides needed, not the one who should face the lions of Casterly Rock. 

When they rided off to the Riverlands and Thoros shared his fears in confidence with the boy, he saw the glitter tremble for an instant, so he changed the subject quickly and soon enough the young lord was telling him about Dorne and introducing him to his little squire.

Smiles came easy in Lord Beric's mouth. Comely young lord in a shinny armour with pretty smiles and a mind full with songs and tales. Thoros soon became attached to his presence, so virtuous and so young and not ready. But he kept his thoughts to himself after that first time and from then on, he preferred to use the same jokes he would use with King Roberts. They didn't make him roar with laughter like they would the King but they did make him smile and Thoros loved that, he realised. He loved his smiles and his innocence and his desire to be honorable and his dreams and expectations and his eyes too.

Lord Beric was interested in Thoros' stories and he had plenty of them, the other would frown at the flaming sword but he was too polite and modest to express his curiosity, it was Thoros who had to break any barrier there was between them and he was happy to do so.

One day Beric asked about Rhllor and Thoros felt, for the first time, genuinely interested in bringing his religion to these lands, if only to spend more time with Beric. When he started telling him about the Prince that was Promised, Lord Beric looked up from his cup of wine, rised an eyebrow and asked, "Why would anyone kill the person they loved for the sake of a sword?", Thoros shrugged. 

Soon enough he started asking himself if that was how it felt to care for a son, it had only been a couple of days and nights and he had lost his family long ago, left them across the Narrow Sea, he couldn't even remember his father's face. Foolish thoughts, from a foolish old priest. 

Yet his worries began to change, he stopped thinking about his fear of facing Gregor Clegane and die trying and started worrying about Lord Beric dying himself, thinking of ways to protect him because Lord Eddard had done an injustice and this boy belonged to the south, he had no business there. He spoke of his betrothed with a charming enthusiasm, and about his sick lady mother waiting back home and Thoros wanted nothing but to see him back. He cared for him, he realised, he cared deeply with every moment he spent with him, as he would find himself staring at him for longer than it was decent and having thoughts that made him blush for the first time in years.

So he wanted him. The realisation made him laugh and he startled Anguy as he did so, standing up from the fire and walking absently towards the deep of the woods. The night had fallen upon them but they would soon reach the Red Fork and be on their way to the sieged Riverrun. He sighed and sit on the banks of the narrow river that washed their refuge that night. 

"Don't be foolish"

Well, he had been unholy in the past, it was no surprise that he was having some depraved thoughts about their young commander but the rest of them were the scary ones. That he wanted to fuck him was one thing and that he wanted him to live was another, and see him smile again and kiss that mouth and live, just live, walk away from this party unscratched and still believing in the songs and the tales of good knights and pretty maidens. 

He was too old to be falling in love, he told himself, and Lord Beric too young and handsome to even consider showering him with kisses. He laughed again. He could content himself with a pretty wench that would giggle at him as he whispered _Beric_ into her ear.

It will be over soon, the fire burned in all the wrong ways tonight.

When he found Ned and Lord Beric by the banks of the river the sight made him catch his breath and he heard himself whisper a pleading, the knot in his throat asphyxiating him but he brought himself closer and kneeled by the Lord's side.

He moved him carefully, he was barely breathing and Thoros cursed that fire god of his for the first time as he examined the deadly wound. 

He would die by the night, he knew. Lord Beric opened his eyes, called his name but it was barely audible. "It will be fine", Thoros forced himself to smile as he leaned down to whisper against his face, "It will be over soon". And he kissed his lips and begged for one last smile but he had run out of jokes now.

He passed his hand over his forehead, a lock of golden red hair falling over his eyes as he laid dead on the grass, along with the rest of the night. People die in every war, young, old, good and bad. The priest told himself. This wouldn't be the first one of the upcoming war that was falling upon them. 

Ned sat sulking in one corner, terror in his eyes and sadness too. Thoros promised to take him back to Starfall himself, bring the body of his Lord back to his Lady. The last thing he wanted to do is meeting the Lady Allyria but it was also the least he could do. For loving him.

He opened the dead's mouth and breathed fire inside and believed, truly believed in the ritual for the first time. Because he wanted him to have at least one God by his side tonight and he was cold already.


End file.
